Preacher’s Personal Life

Life Now

/ Peter Mead / 2 Comments

Life2We can easily make the Martha mistake.  I don’t mean the Martha in the kitchen mistake though.  At the end of Luke 10 we see Martha graciously rebuked by Jesus for desperately trying to love her neighbor as her first priority, when she should have first loved the Lord and allowed Him to minister to her before she tried to minister to others.  We easily and maybe regularly make that Martha mistake, but I am not referring to that.

We can easily make the Martha in the street mistake.  In John 11 we see Jesus at a key point in his ministry coming to Bethany where Lazarus was ill and then died.  Martha runs to Jesus and expresses her grief, that if Jesus had been there, then Lazarus would not have died.  Jesus loved Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. But now Lazarus was dead and buried, Jesus was too late, and Martha understandably made a mistake.  What was it?

Jesus told Martha that Lazarus would rise again. What do you say to a grieving sister?  Maybe this was just one of those platitudes that we hear at Christian funerals.  Comfort, but distant.  Martha took it that way.  She assumed that Jesus comes to us and points off into the distant future – comfort for the by and by.  She was mistaken.

When Jesus told Martha that “I am the resurrection and the life,” he was not just referring to the far off future.  What she didn’t know was that this person stood before her was about to reinforce the Jerusalem leadership’s decision to kill him.  What she didn’t know was that this person stood before her was soon to enter into death deliberately and with dignity.  And what she didn’t know was that in a few weeks this person stood before her would stand up and walk out of his own tomb as the conqueror of death.

If Martha could have seen the next few weeks, then she might have anticipated more in the next few minutes.  Jesus is the resurrection and the life, and Lazarus was about to be miraculously resuscitated after four days of stone cold death.

We can easily make the Martha mistake.  We can assume that Jesus comes to us in the tough times of life and ministry in order to point our hearts into the future – that far off time when we will be with him and all the tears will be wiped and the presence of sin dusted away and we will forever enjoy what we were made for, fellowship with the Trinity.  This is all true.  But this is not all.

Jesus comes to us in the midst of hurt, and sorrow, and challenge, and struggle, and betrayal, and fatigue, and tears . . . and he comes to give us life now.

Too many gospel presentations offer only a ticket to heaven when you die. And too many Christians are walking around with hope of comfort tied exclusively to that end of life anticipation.  Jesus is the kind of Savior who comes to us, by his Spirit, in the midst of the mess we experience.  Jesus is the kind of Savior who gives us life now.

Martha misunderstood the physical implications of Jesus meeting her that day.  We can misunderstand the spiritual implication of Jesus meeting us today.

As conqueror of death and Lord of life, what is it that Jesus offers us today as his beloved friends and family?  He offers us hope for the future and a new standing with God, of course.  But never let the good news diminish into a merely status-based future hope.  Jesus offers us the loving intimacy of the Trinity by the Spirit poured out into our hearts reassuring us of God’s love, urging us to call God our Abba.  Jesus offers us eternal life now, which is to enjoy fellowship with God our Father and Jesus Christ whom he has sent.  Jesus offers us transformed hearts, filled hearts, tenderly loved hearts.  Jesus offers us his presence, his comfort, his concern and his companionship.  Jesus offers us life, now.

I thank God for Martha.  Her mistake in the kitchen in Luke 10 is a mistake I make all the time.  Jesus’ gentle rebuke of Martha resonates deeply as a loving rebuke for me.  And her mistake in the street at Bethany in John 11 is a mistake I make all the time.  I too tend to live my life as if Jesus’ presence is nice today, but the difference Jesus offers lies off in the distant future.  Jesus lovingly corrected Martha’s grieving error by giving her the embrace of her brother that day.  Jesus lovingly wants to correct our similar error by giving us his embrace, today.  That is life, eternal life.  It is not only life forever then.  It is, in the midst of all the mess I experience, life now.

Legalism’s 5 Misses

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

Legalism4Legalism will always contain a rich dose of truth, but it will miss something far richer and more helpful.  Here are a few of the great misses of legalism:

1. Legalism is a misunderstanding of the Gospel. God did not offer us pardon on condition of ongoing obedience to His law. God offered us life as the bride of Christ, the children of God, the friends of God, and as members of the body of Christ. We enter into the Sonship of Christ and so desire to obey as He does – not to fulfill an obligation, nor to merit the Father’s love, but rather as the natural response of a loving heart. In the Gospel we are offered that transformation of heart, that union by the Spirit, and that freedom to enjoy pleasing Him.  Legalism pushes God into the distance and throttles the life out of our obedience.

2. Legalism is a misreading of the Galatian heresy.  Paul was so strong in his critique of believers who were drawn away from Christ and toward the flesh-driven pursuit of maturity via law-keeping.  Two thousand years on and many of us still live under the spell that says we get saved by faith, but then will grow by self-stirred effort.  Galatians is not just a critique of this law-based approach to living for God, it is also a glorious presentation of the opposite – of life lived in response to Him who loved me and gave Himself for me, the promised One who gives the promised Spirit so that we can be sons rather than slaves.

3. Legalism is a misrepresentation of initiative.  The Bible puts God’s grace up front as the initiator, but my legalism turns that around.  Now God is seen to be reticently gracious. He is hesitatingly good.  He must be conditioned into being kind by my initiative through a self-stirred obedience. God becomes the responder to us mini-gods who twist His arm by our self-starting acts of obedience.

4. Legalism is a misdirected gaze issue. When my life reflects an inner passion to gaze at the Law, or myself, or others, then I am living the lie that God himself, as revealed in Christ through the Spirit is not worthy of my loving gaze.

5. Legalism is a weird and twisted version of marriage. If I were to apply legalistic descriptors to a marriage, we would find it very strange. In a marriage we make a great effort for the sake of the other, but we don’t dwell on that effort.  We do it gladly because we love the person. A marriage defined by my obsession with my own effort is weird. It is also weird in union with Christ.

John Piper wrote that “the essence of legalism is when faith is not the engine of obedience.”  With that, let’s bring this series to a close.

10 Symptoms of Legalism

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

Legalism3I had a good conversation on Twitter the other day about legalism.  I asked for definitions and got some great ones back, including:

Legalism says it is still I who live, for though the Son of God loved me and gave himself up for me I don’t really trust him.  (@davebish)

Elevating obedience to the level of (or even above) grace in terms of its value for our lives (@epaga)

Appealing to, living according to and demanding others live according to works-righteouness for salvation and/or sanctification (@marcushoneysett)

A mechanistic approach to my relationship with God. Do this get that. (@BearwoodChapel)

Obeying to stay loved, instead of obeying because loved (@richpitt_)

Anyway, the twitter conversation stirred a list of symptoms of legalism. Perhaps you recognise some?

  1. Negative attitude toward pleasing God – it is duty rather than delight (I feel like a slave not a son)
  2. Competitive attitude toward others – they don’t live up to my standard (biting and devouring one another)
  3. Prideful attitude towards self – it may be self-despising at times when I fail, but it is a self-evaluation that registers somewhere on the pride scale.
  4. Distracted focus of the heart – me and law and others, more than Christ Himself.
  5. Corrupted view of love relationship – I must obey in order to be loved, rather than I lovingly obey because I am loved.
  6. Broken representation of the Trinity – I obey to merit love, so I shatter the beauty that I am called to represent, of a Son lovingly obeying His Father in a loving response to love.
  7. Selective distaste for sin – I will express my dislike of sins that bother me (i.e. those that are “worse” than mine, or that I never struggle with), but I seem to harbour and nourish other sins (private, secret, “sanctified” gossip, or talk that tears down, or pride, or self-righteousness, or whatever).
  8. Disproportionate conversation – I have much more to say about rules, standards, laws and evaluation of others than I have to say about the wonder of Christ. Get me going on issues of sin and I wax eloquent, but raise the beauty of Christ and I don’t have much to say.
  9. Embittered personality – I reflect an inner tension, sourness, anger or negativity, rather than an increasingly effortless manifestation of the fruit of the Spirit.
  10. Restricted vulnerability – I may offer some token statements of my own failure and weaknesses, but I am reticent to reveal too much of my inner self.

Thanks to everyone who participated in the twitter chat. They may not agree with everything in these posts, but I do appreciate their input (@StephenColin @JonathanWest @Jim_Thomas @WhyBAnneB @PastorSproul @S_Crosthwaite @petetheirishone @LukeCawley)

Legalism and Preaching – part 3

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

Legalism2Legalism is not only possible for Christians, it is likely.  The default leaning of our flesh is toward autonomy. That autonomy can manifest in overt rebellion (antinomianism) or in self-righteous religiosity (legalism), but both are manifestations of a separation of God’s Law from God Himself.

You probably see the label “antinomian” being used. It is a serious charge. It suggests that someone is anti-law and therefore, by implication, pro-sin. It tends to be used of those who don’t elevate the Law as much as they apparently should. Undoubtedly there are some antinomians who are genuinely pro-sin, but I haven’t met many. I have met a lot who might be labeled “antinomians” who do not see the Law as the solution to the profound reality of sin, and who, incidentally, live lives characterized by greater integrity and with more fruit of the Spirit evident than some who like to criticize them.

As preachers we need to wrestle with these issues. We stand and speak not only of how to be saved, but also about living the Christian life. For many those are two separate messages. We are saved by grace, they say, but we live the Christian life by determined obedience to the Law.  Somehow this two-part message should feel very awkward for us.

We need to devour our Bibles and get a sense not only of the instructions in there, but also the source of those instructions.  Jesus seemed to suggest that His way would mean a greater and a deeper holiness, one that would surpass that of the fastidious Pharisees.  Yet we tend to think of the Old Testament folks as having a far more demanding legal code than we could cope with. Are we missing something?  Should we demand more strongly that our listeners keep more laws?  Or is there something implicit in the New Covenant that Jesus instituted that leads to a greater awareness of sin, and a greater victory over it?

The New Testament is clear that this life will be a struggle between the flesh and the Spirit, so perfection is unrealistic.  But is there something in the New Covenant that means we can keep in step with the Spirit, that we can delight to please our God, that we can live lives of greater moral integrity out of a heart-stirred delight rather than through external pressure?

Let’s beware of an inadequate understanding of sin and a wholly inadequate approach to living lives that please God – for that is what legalism is: weak on the problem and a flimsy solution to it.

Perhaps it would do us preachers good to take a book like Galatians and read it through again and again. If we bring with us the question of what does it look like to live the Christian life, what is sin and what is the solution for the believer?, then these questions might gradually open up Paul’s teaching there and bring new life to our ministry. It cannot hurt. Twenty, thirty, fifty times through Galatians would help us all.  Shall we?

Legalism and Preaching – part 2

/ Peter Mead / 4 Comments

Legalism2I remember the look on his face. An elder in a church genuinely believed what he said, “we may have problems here, but legalism is not one of them. We certainly don’t have legalism here.”  I couldn’t believe it. You could smell the legalism before you entered the door.

Why do we feel immune? I suspect it is because we excessively overlap our legalism definition with the idea of works-salvation.  It is not just about seeking salvation through obedience. Legalism is also about seeking God’s ongoing favour through obedience. It is about trying to perform in order to stay loved, as well as to get loved.

But why do Christians slide into legalism?  In Paul’s writings he sets out the fight between our flesh and the Spirit.  As Christians we have the Spirit of God united with our spirit, and so we long to please Him. At the same time we are still in the flesh with all its pre-programmed rebellion against God’s good rule in our lives. So we feel a tension within. But to avoid legalism we have to make sure we understand what it means to live in the flesh.

Too easily we can view “fleshly living” as the pursuit of licentious decadence, the kind of wild and lust-charged living we see in certain places and on certain TV shows.  But if we think the flesh is just about wild living, then we are set up for the trap of legalism.  Why? Because we feel safe if we don’t live like “those people,” if we can resist the urge to let loose and do crazy things, then we are obviously living in accordance with the Spirit.  Or are we?

The flesh is defined primarily not by a certain lifestyle, but by an orientation. The flesh is all about me.  It is about autonomy. It is about living my way in my strength.  And that is where we can be sucked into a very fleshly lifestyle that looks very holy.  In my strength, in my own autonomy, I can be a “good” person. I can attend church, avoid unacceptable sins, dress well and look holy.  Instead of living a wild and extravagant overt rebellion, I can live a hidden and self-sufficient religious rebellion.  I can be entirely fleshly, and look very very Christian.

Once we recognize that the core issue in the flesh is not licentiousness, but autonomy, we can start to avoid the legalism trap.  Galatians 2:20-3:3 can start to make sense to us.

Sinclair Ferguson makes the helpful point that both legalism and licentiousness are related in this way: they separate God’s Law from God Himself. Thus they both reveal the human tendency to prefer autonomy. Rather than dealing with God Himself, we can keep God at arm’s length and live in essential separation from Him, precisely by looking to a disconnected Law and give it our self-concerned obedience.

Legalism is not only possible for Christians, it is the default of our flesh in one form or another. Let’s pray for God to sensitize us to the subtle slide to legalism that stirs within all of us.  It’s a slide away from Him and back towards self.

Legalism and Preaching

/ Peter Mead / 4 Comments

Legalism2Legalism is an easy word to throw around, but a challenging term to define. For many of us, legalism seems to refer to whatever restrictions others might feel that I personally do not feel. But defining legalism carefully is vitally important.

It is important for each follower of Christ. It is a serious business to discount a restriction as legalism when it actually is displeasing to the One who loved us and gave Himself for us. Equally it can be stifling to the life He has given us to overlay unnecessary restrictions and thereby misrepresent Him to ourselves and others.

The issue of representing Christ to others means that defining legalism accurately should be a concern for every preacher. People look to us for guidance, both in clarification of the Gospel and in instruction for living. Every preacher treads a minefield in every sermon – preach legalism, or preach license, and damage will be done.

However, many of us never really think about the definition of legalism. I think part of the reason for this is that we have been lulled into a false sense of security by an inadequate definition.

Many definitions are essentially similar to this:

“Legalism is about trying to merit salvation by obedience.”

But there is a significant problem with this definition. Too easily we will hear this to be referring to the heresy of salvation by works. That is, the idea that we have to behave in order to be saved. And the problem with that understanding of legalism is that once we are saved (by grace, not works), then we are effectively immune from any charge of legalism. After all, doesn’t every born again believer in Jesus know that salvation is based on grace, not works?

Surely a definition of legalism that rules out any Christian from being a legalist must be flawed.  It concerns me because I am sure I have met a few legalists.  I have probably been one too.

So perhaps it would be better to define legalism as “trying to merit God’s favour by obedience.” After all, God’s favour is not just about getting into the family in the first place, we also value God’s favour in our ongoing relationship with Him.

Next time I would like to wrestle with this idea more and identify one big reason why believers can fall into legalism so easily.

Ministry In The Tough Times

/ Peter Mead / 1 Comment

Harvest3bMinistry is usually challenging. Sometimes it can be brutal.  What do we need for ministry in the tough times?

I have found help from an unlikely source – the book of Ruth.  Nestled after the book of Judges, Ruth is a four chapter gem that is intensely relevant for our lives today.  Why? First, because Ruth is not a story of kings, warriors and prophets – it is a story of very normal people, just like us.  Second, because Ruth is set in a time where the culture around was marked by a growing ungodliness, just like ours.  Third, because in Ruth we don’t see God working in spectacular and sensational miracles, and there are times in our lives when we don’t see God being as obvious as we’d like Him to be. Ruth is a story of God quietly at work in the lives of ordinary people during very challenging times, and therefore it is a story for us.

The book of Ruth is really the story of Naomi, Ruth’s mother-in-law. Naomi suffers extreme devastation in the first verses. Her family moved away from the Promised Land to Moab, and there her husband died, followed by her two sons.  She was left devastated and somehow responsible for her two Moabite daughters-in-law.

The darkness for Naomi was overwhelming. She faced two great problems. One was immediate, the other long-term.  The immediate problem was that without a husband or sons to protect and provide, how would she eat?  The longer-term problem was that of life purpose. In that culture her role was to bear sons and continue the family line. She had borne sons, but now they were dead. An overwhelming sense of shame, failure and hopelessness must have nagged at her.

Naomi’s journey is really the journey of humanity.  In the darkness of life’s circumstances, we live under the cloud resulting from the Fall of Genesis. We have been born into a world that believes the lie that God is not good and He cannot be trusted.  Even as Christian leaders, when life hits us hard we can get to where Naomi was, struggling to trust in the goodness of God.  Her journey is the journey of history, and it is a journey many of us will have to make – a journey of rediscovery of the goodness of God.

In chapter 1 Naomi is so devastated that all she can muster, by way of explanation of her situation, is that the LORD, the Almighty, has brought her back empty, He has dealt bitterly with her. She cannot say that God is good, all she can muster is that God is . . . God.  Maybe you are there right now. Maybe you will be one day.

Praise God that He does not discard us when we struggle to trust in His goodness.  Instead He works, typically quietly and behind the scenes, to tune our hearts to recognize His ongoing steadfast and loyal love for us.  In chapter 1 we see the stunning speech of Ruth.  Sometimes our radar for God’s kindness will be helped by those around us whose commitment to God is a testimony to us in our own struggle.

The rest of the book demonstrates God’s persistent love for Naomi and Ruth in response to the two great needs that overwhelmed Naomi in chapter 1. The immediate need for food is addressed in chapter 2.  At the start of the day Ruth speaks of the possibility of finding favour (receiving grace) from someone that day.  Naomi sat at home with that ringing in her ears until evening.  Then she discovered that God had showered Ruth with grace through Boaz.  Ruth staggered home with a huge amount of barley, and leftovers from her own lunch. And it all began with Ruth “luckily” landing in the field of Boaz.  God was at work, and Naomi started to trust again.

In the next chapters we see Naomi starting to plan for a future legacy via Boaz and Ruth. God had better plans than hers. Boaz turned out to be incredibly godly and he made sure that he followed through with appropriate wedding plans. As the book ends we see a kinsman sitting on the lap of Naomi, provided by God.  The kinsman was Obed, the grandfather of David.

Ruth is the story of Naomi’s journey from ‘God is God,’ to ‘how good is God!?’  It is the story of God persistently and quietly working behind the scenes to help Naomi see His character again. He provided protection and food, and He provided honour in the place of shame, a legacy that would go down through the generations to the great king David . . . and to David’s greater son, Jesus.

Maybe you are facing overwhelming darkness in ministry right now.  Maybe all you can muster is a declaration that God is God.  He’s in charge, but He has dealt bitterly with you.  If that is not the case today, it very well may be one day. How will we come through such times?

The book of Ruth teaches us that in such times God is still at work, even when we don’t see it.  It teaches us that there will be times when it will be the faith of a Ruth, or the godliness of a Boaz, that will preach hope into our hearts.  It teaches us that God will work quietly, but persistently, to not only provide for us, but also to bring about His greater plans of which we are a part.

When the darkness descends we can easily feel like our life and ministry amounts to nothing.  If we are part of God’s great plan at all, then our ministry is just a couple of black threads in a tapestry we cannot see.  But God still has His big picture, and our lives are still part of it.  Naomi could never have guessed that God’s plan in her suffering was really about bringing Ruth from Moab to Bethlehem so she could be in the line of the Messiah.  So we don’t know the bigger picture.

The book of Ruth lifts our hearts to believe that one day, when God reveals the great tapestry of human history, we will see how it all fit.  We will see how our few threads, even the darkest ones, were part of a glorious picture that only God’s goodness could have achieved.

Pray for God to stir your heart to trust His goodness.  Maybe through the faith and godliness of others.  Maybe through the “lucky” circumstances of life.  Maybe through suffering that doesn’t make sense.  One day it will.  And for now prayerfully look to see where God is quietly at work in your life, in your family, in your ministry.  God does not have to be sensational and spectacular to convince us of His goodness, but He is persistently good!

Post-Preaching Inscape

/ Peter Mead / Leave a comment

manMirror2A while back I wrote a post about Post-Preaching Stress Disorder – the struggle many preachers face after giving of themselves in the pulpit.  You can see that post here.

Let’s ponder further on what goes on inside the preacher. Instead of a landscape, let’s consider the “inscape” of the preacher who has preached.  What might we be saying to ourselves in this time:

1. “I have failed God and let people down.” This is probably more common than most people realise.  Too often we can be filled with self-recrimination based on how we felt things went in the preaching event.  Perhaps some feedback or lack of feedback is playing on ours minds. Perhaps the enemy is whispering and trying to cause trouble for you in your vulnerable state. What would we advise anyone else to do with this sense of failure in other areas of life?  Perhaps take that to the cross and give thanks for the forgiveness that is ours in Christ?

2. “I did really well, God is probably thankful I am on His team!”  Probably less common, since our tendency is often not to feel great about preaching, but this one is not surprising considering our flesh’s gravitational pull toward pride. How easily our flesh can corrupt a good sermon into a moment for self-congratulation. It is important to hand over the successes as well as the failures, lest our relationship with God become determined (corrupted) by our performance.

3. “I received lots of praise, but I don’t let that touch me.” Here’s a more specific one. This is where we know that we shouldn’t become proud in the face of praise, so we handle it with humility . . . but there is always the danger of corrupting the humility into an impervious sense of distance from our ministry. This is the danger of disconnect, where we give a sermon, but we don’t give so much of ourselves as we used to. Be careful, God is probably not a fan of your “professional detachment” from something that means so much to Him.

4. “My ministry is done, now for some me time.” This is a very common danger. It is the post Mount Carmel danger zone that faces many of us week by week. How easily we feel we can “switch off” from walking closely with God and feel like we need independent rest.  Rest may be exactly what is needed, but not rest away from God. Beware of justifying sin-stained choices in times of vulnerable fatigue. Be sure to rest with God, and perhaps with other people too.  Lone time may be a devilish trap for the tired soul.

What do you find yourself saying inside after you preach?